With a few exceptions, I have written nothing on this website without the help of a cigarette. At present, I am trying to figure out how to be a writer and a non-smoker at the same time. It’s not going very well. I’ll keep you posted.
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Just wanted to point out something I thought about this morning on the way to work, after remembering that tonight is the Winter Olympics opening ceremonies: a friend and I watched part of the 2008 Summer Olympics opening ceremonies from a Schlotzsky’s Deli in Berlin, just around the corner from the Checkpoint Charlie museum. So weird for two native Texans to watch a television event taking place in China from a chain restaurant in Berlin that was originally founded in Texas.
*Note: we did not choose to go into a Schlotszky’s in Europe on purpose.
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Roger Ebert is kicking all kinds of blog ass right now, you guys. Today I learned from him that the Nehi in Nehi orange soda is not now and was never spelled Knee High. I always assumed it was, and it made me think of toddlers drinking orange soda from their baby bottles.
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“While the media insists on calling this a ’sexting-related suicide,’ it’s much more accurately referred to as a ’slut-shaming suicide.’ Because the photograph she sent is not what drove this poor girl to kill herself — the non-consensual spreading of the photograph, and the subsequent reaction that her classmates and all adults in positions of authority had to it seems to absolutely have been what drove her to despair.”
Yes, and if I never hear the word “sexting” again, I’ll be happy. (via mefi)
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Do you guys know about Kasmeneo on Flickr? He is a dude who lives in Germany and posts photos of the outfits he wears. He buys whatever clothes he wants, regardless of what gender they’re intended for, and wears them with style. In other words, he looks awesome. This is one of my favorites.
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This isn’t the first time I’ve heard this story about the photos featured in the 1965 book A Child Is Born (a book that fascinated me as a kid), but I still find it pretty interesting, and fraught with dramatic irony. Photos taken of aborted fetuses are used as propaganda by pro-life activists; perfect!
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“By age 7, almost half of the jittery babies had developed symptoms of anxiety — fear of thunder or dogs or darkness, extreme shyness in the classroom or playground — compared with just 10 percent of the more easygoing ones.” I had all of those symptoms as a child, so if this study holds true, it’s no wonder I’ve got anxiety.
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Yay for you! I quit about 10 years ago. I went cold turkey after a few earlier failed attempts on the patch. The best advice I ever got was this: when the urge strikes find a quiet space and do your standard run-of-the-mill deep breathing exercises.
I hear you; it’s tough breaking the connection between two habitual acts. Hopefully the muse strikes.
I recently quit drinking (23 days sober). I used to write (prose and music) when I was drinking and I thought I needed to be drunk in order to be creative.
In order to get past that I started writing again - tiny things, a sentence or a line or two here and there. It’s been slow going, but I’ve managed to piece a few things together finally without the “help” of alcohol.
You’ll figure how to write without smoking, it just takes patience and perseverance… and a lot of swearing.
Yeah, isn’t that great? A cup of tea seemed to be something like a replacement. But I like tea a lot. And I don’t write very much anymore.
I was going to say its only a mental connection. But, after thinking about it, I quit writing when I quit smoking. I use to write a song a day, sometimes 3 or 4. I wrote a blog daily, poetry, scripts, etc. I can’t seem to write now. So, if there is a mental connection, I haven’t figured out how to break it.
Stephen King talks about it in his memoir “On Writing”. His was drink and writing… still, it might help to read it.
I quit about a year and a half ago. It was difficult. My creativity walked around numb like a zombie for 3months before it started to dethaw and come alive again.
Please don’t give up. I mean, please do give up the smoking. But please don’t give up the writing sans nicotine. You’re irreplaceable.